I spent much of yesterday insane. I mean this quite literally.
The highest that I actually measured my temperature was 102.6, but I suspect that there was some selection bias there, in that to measure my temperature I had to be competent to operate a thermometer. An easier to fact-check set of statistics is items I managed to saturate with sweat: six shirts, five towels (including one beach towel), and all my pillowcases were strewn about in still-damp bundles when it came time to fill the washing machine today. My fever finally broke sometime around 2:00 am, after which it dawned on me just how strange my cognition had been for most of the previous 24 hours.
I didn’t have an experiential referent for “fever dream” before, but yesterday I spent well over an hour in intense mental negotiation with a bottle of tylenol. The balance of the situation had to be carefully, maintained, you see. All of the relevant energies–both political and ethereal–taken into account, else disaster. It was crucial that the bottle of tylenol not be allowed, under any circumstances, to notice the tension in my jaw, or all would be irretrievably lost. This interaction between myself and the bottle was, in my mind, as furious as it was protracted. And yet if you were to have walked into my bedroom and watched it take place, what you would have seen was me lying completely motionless for a very long time with my bloodshot eyes locked on a small white bottle sitting ten inches from my face, hair plastered to a head full to bursting with primo crazy.
Curiously, there was no visual component to this experience. I was not hallucinating, merely beset by flagrantly nonrational concerns and obsessions. Fever dreams. Anyone else have experience with this phenomenon?